Irredeemable
by Does Not Compute
Summary: Follow up to my previous one-shot "Fury". This story is the fallout in the aftermath of the betrayal.


**A/N: This is a follow-up to my previous story "Fury", which can be found here s/8945483/1/Fury. This story has been rattling around in my brain for a while now and I think I've finally got everything down in words as close as I've been envisioning it. **

***Avril - In the Star Wars universe this is a large bird of prey, native to the moon Yavin 8. I have chosen this as the handle for my sith warrior. Serena was her name at birth, she became Darth Avril when she entered the trials on Corriban.**

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><p>Malavai Quinn considered his prison cell as the heavy durasteel door slid closed behind him its locking mechanism clicking in place. It wasn't very large, only eight feet across, and contained just the bare necessities to house a prisoner - a cot bolted to the floor on one end and a latrine with a wash basin on the other. It felt incredibly empty, and it was into this emptiness his leaden conscience began to seep out.<p>

First came fear, the kind that twisted a man's insides in knots because he no longer knew his place in the world. All his life Malavai worked towards the betterment of the Empire and all he did, all the decisions he made were buoyed his unwavering belief in his masters. But now he didn't even have that, caught up in a feud between two Sith masters he no longer knew who held the greater interests of humanity and who acted out of selfish spite. He threw himself across Serena's warpath, desperate and knowing that he could not survive the encounter and yet somehow he was still alive and twice the traitor for it. He didn't know what he found more frightening - what Darth Baras would do to Serena, and now him, should she lose this war or her own wrath now that he had seen a brief glimpse of how terrible it was.

That's when the guilt set in, the insidious self-loathing kind. He felt his bile rise up at the thought of his own weakness and his mouth twisted in disgust at his cowardice and weak will. He felt broken, a tool that was used up and discarded. He never told anyone of the clandestine calls from his master or the insidious whispers that rattled around in his skull late at night, stoking the flames of his paranoia that Darth Baras knew his every move. For the first time he sympathized with Moff Broysc because he understood madness. The cargo ship was supposed to be a way out and now he didn't even have that.

He stood there, catatonic at first, not knowing whether he should rage and throw himself against the walls or if he should sink to the floor and resign himself to whatever fate had in store for him. Finally, he willed himself to move to the cot, putting one leaden foot in front of the other until he reached its edge and lowered himself down on the thin mattress. As he cradled his head in his hands, raking his hair with his fingers, he suddenly realized how truly tired he was.

Somewhere far away he thought he heard the familiar hum of the ship's engines starting up and then he felt a lurch upwards and back as Serena's interceptor left the confines of the cargo ship's hangar. There was nothing to do now but wait.

-0-

Time had a way of distorting itself in solitary confinement. Hours bled into days and days into weeks. Malavai was no longer sure how long it has been since his capture - it might have been a month, or it might have been more than that. All he was sure of was his own miserable existence, punctuated by a regular meal of stale mealbread and water, brought to him by Jaessa and sometimes Vette. He tried talking to them at first, hoping that a word of thanks would elicit a response. His efforts were met with a cold stare and a wall of silence. After a while he stopped trying.

He also stopped trying to care. His hair had grown too long to try and keep in a well groomed state and a thick, unruly beard had cropped up on his face. His uniform, stained and worn out, betrayed the haggard state of his mind. He had no one but himself to talk to and he hated his own company.

It happened during one of his inner monologues. The durasteel door to his jail cell slid open, revealing a large muscular silhouette against the light in the hallway.

"Get up prisoner, The Emperor's Wrath wishes to see you." Lieutenant Pierce's baritone voice carried through the empty cell.

Malavai unfolded himself from the cot and cautiously inched toward the exit as if the invitation to step out was some elaborately cruel joke and the door would be slammed shut in his face the moment he reached it. Gingerly, he stepped through the threshold and it slowly dawned on him that this was real and he was being escorted toward his judgment and perhaps his execution.

He offered his hands to Lieutenant Pierce, expecting to be cuffed. The large man just looked at him, a smirk of amused contempt forming on his face. He jerked his head in the direction of the ship's bridge, indicating that they should get moving.

"The conference room."

-o-

Darth Avril*****, better known as The Emperor's Wrath, sat on the far end of the conference table. She was holding an object in her hands, studying it pensively, as the lieutenant brought Malavai into the room.

"The prisoner, my lord." He announced.

She placed the object on the table in front of her and focused her attention on them.

"Leave us."

Lieutenant Pierce carried out her order in silence as she sat still as a statue staring at Malavai, and when the door hissed closed behind him, she broke her silence in the same harsh tone.

"Take a seat."

He obeyed, taking the closest chair available and folding his hands at his knees.

He almost didn't recognize her. The woman in front of him was not the same woman he met on Balmorra. Her complexion was pallid, her cheeks no longer displaying the rosy color of youth. The rich chestnut color of her eyes was obscured by an unnatural yellow glow, and her jet black hair had turned ashen. A mottled pink burn scar marred a portion of her right cheek and extended down her neck, beyond the protective collar of her armor.

He witnessed the start of the transformation that fateful day on the cargo ship, but seeing her now so completely transformed, was a shocking revelation of how terrible the dark side of the force could be.

She let him stare.

"The scar was a parting gift from Darth Baras." She said as she slid the object she was holding in her hands previously across the table with her mind. He always felt uncomfortable when she used her powers in such a mundane way, it reminded him of his own lack of connection to the force.

It came to a stop in front of him and he recognized it immediately as Darth Baras's mask. The fact it was now in her possession only meant that her victory was complete and that his old master was dead.

An acute feeling of inadequacy and shame settled over him as the realization hit home. _What a complete and utter fool I was for thinking that I could spare her from Darth Baras' wrath, when she was always the stronger warrior and I lacked the faith to believe in her._

He hung his head in shame. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to beg her forgiveness. Knowing that he didn't deserve it, the words seemed to disappear the moment his mouth tried to shape them.

"Serena..." He began.

"You have no right to call me that anymore!" She snapped, and the vehemence in her voice rushed at him in a wave of cold hatred. He saw it too, white tendrils of hoar spreading out from under her palms across the table's surface.

He sat in stunned silence, in awe of the power barely contained within her.

"The Emperor considers your actions in Corellian space as treason, punishable by death." She began, regaining the self-control she momentarily seemed to lose. "However, despite your utter lack of sound judgment and your decision to declare your allegiance to Darth Baras, I have decided to reinstate your captaincy."

"My lord..." Malavai's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Make no mistake, your life is now forfeit to me and I will not hesitate again to end it. However, considering your impressive service record, it would be a shame to lose a man of your talents. This is your chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Empire, captain."

He sat in silence, looking down at his hands and trying to process the ultimatum that was just delivered to him. _Is this a trick? Am I forgiven? What game are you playing, Serena?_

"And in your eyes, my lord?" His voice was guarded, probing the waters of their volatile relationship.

She did not answer for a long time, and he waited patiently until her silence became unbearable. Cautiously, he raised his eyes to look at her and found her staring at him. She was frowning and somehow that made the harsh lines of her face grow smoother and the glare of her eyes grow softer. For a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of the woman that he fell in love with looking back at him. That specter was fleeting and it was gone as suddenly as it came, replaced by a stony look of contempt.

Her eyes shifted focus as she moved towards the exit, stopping short beside him. Her reply was almost a whisper but its meaning was unbearably clear.

"You are irredeemable in my eyes, Malavai Quinn."


End file.
